


Love Story

by tielan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: nextgen_mas, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Romance, Sex, post—hogwarts, relationship, snarking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boy meets girl, they fight, they become friends, they grow up, they hook up, they live happily ever after....right? But life isn't a Shakespearean tale, and love doesn't always conquer all - although it's going to give it a bloody good try!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of this story - 'With Benefits' was written for the nextgen_mas in 2011, and I hope to finish it later this year.
> 
> The HP world history is one that I've built up in my head and which I'm calling 'Tales of the Awesome Foursome', complete with school shenanigans and the lives of the original characters from the book series. I doubt it'll all get written, but I'm having fun with it in my head at least!

It was a beautiful wedding. Everyone said so.

"It's not like they could say anything else," Scorpius muttered into Rose Weasley's ear as they watched from the high table. "Al's dad would hex them into next week."

" _I'd_ hex them into next week," Rose murmured back, watching the happy couple dance across a floor of smooth grass and scarlet and black poppies. "Do you know how long it took to prepare that floor?"

He glanced down at the woman beside him and, since everyone's attention was on Albus and Hilary at this moment, let his gaze linger on the curve of her neck and the reddish-brown curl that had slipped out of her hairclip. "I'm sure you're about to tell me."

Hazel eyes looked sharply up at him from beneath a sweep of dark lashes before Rose grinned - what Albus called the, 'uh-oh, time for a shield spell' grin - just before Fred Weasley, cousin of the groom and MC extraordinaire, announced their names as the best man and maid of honour. "Actually, I get half a dance in which to bore you to tears, Scorpius. Lucky me."

 _No, lucky me,_ Scorpius thought to himself behind careful mental shields as he stood and offered Rose his hand to lead her out onto the floor. "I'm sure I'll survive."

"You might. Your toes might not."

"Just follow my lead."

"Remember how badly that came off in seventh year?"

Scorpius groaned.. "You really had to bring that up, didn't you?"

"Every chance I get." Her eyes twinkled up at him as she placed one hand in his and slid her other onto his shoulder. "I haven't told the tabloids yet."

Under his hand, the silk of her dress was soft, and the curve of her waist warm. Guests had been asked to forgo robes for this wedding since Hilary's extended family were Muggles with Muggle sensibilities, and most of the guests had complied. As the best man, it wasn't as though Scorpius had a choice.

The result? Scorpius Malfoy in full Muggle formal gear.

" _Well, at least it's not motheaten lace,_ " was all Harry Potter had remarked upon seeing his son and the groomsmen's clothing. Then he refused to say any more, even when Albus and James pestered him.

In the middle of the dancing lawn, charmed poppies swaying against his trouser legs, Scorpius resisted the urge to slide his hand into the small of her back and pull her close. Too many people watching them for one; and Rose had never indicated she'd welcome him moving on her like that.

"The 'yet' worries me," he said as he led them out into the dance, mindful of Al and Hils already out there - and the hundreds of eyes watching them.

"I'm saving it for the pinnacle of your career. Then I'll offer a complete exposé on the life and times of Puddlemere United's most famous Chaser, sell it to Witch Weekly for a hundred thousand Galleons and retire from spellmaking forever."

"You'd be bored within a week."

"Maybe."

Something about the way she drew the words out made Scorpius look harder at her. "Have you been working on your widgets again?"

"Perhaps a little." Rose glanced off to the side as the parents were announced - Al's dad and stepmum, and Hils' parents. "In my spare time." She looked up at him. "I'm looking for a backer."

"Already?" Not that it should have surprised him. Rose always thought about something long and hard, calculating and judging all the angles before she made a move for it - often so fast that most people never even saw her coming.

Scorpius had learned that one could never be too far ahead of Rose Weasley.

"I've been working on it most of the spring."

"So when do I get to see what I'm investing in?"

"You've already made up your mind?"

"Of course."

"But you haven't even seen what I'm working on!"

"I don't need to."

"Most people would." Then her smile slipped sideways, became fond and rueful. "But then you're not most people, are you?"

He didn't dignify that with an answer.

The truth was, Scorpius didn't need to see what she was working on, simply because it was Rose who was working on it. If she thought her work was ready for a backer, then it was ready for a backer. By the end of their first year at Hogwarts he'd had a healthy respect for her intelligence and ingenuity. That respect had only increased in the fourteen years since then.

And no, Scorpius Malfoy wasn't 'most people'.

"You can tell me about it if you like, though," he added as they danced across the grass in time to the old-style waltzing music. "Unless you want to tell me about how hard it was to put this wedding together."

"I do. But you don't want to hear about it."

"Maybe I do."

"And maybe you'll be playing for the Chudley Cannons next season," she retorted, smoothing one hand over his shoulder in a gesture that sent a shiver down his spine.

To distract himself from the caress - almost certainly not intended to be flirtatious - Scorpius looked around at the wedding marquee. The tent was a gauzy material that didn't completely hide the night sky outside, and the tent poles holding them up were festooned with flowers. The chairs were tied with scarlet and yellow ribbons, and a riot of flowers blossomed in the centre of every table.

Now that dinner was finished, the guests were scattered around the room - a sea of redheads and ebony hair, with the occasional bright starlight gleam of the Scamanders, or the Delacour-Weasleys. A formidable clan on both sides, and at the centre of it, the two who'd come together from very different families.

At that moment, Hils' laughter rang through the tent, making every head turn. Al looked pleased with the reaction he'd gotten, and murmured something else in his new wife's ear that made her poke him, still laughing.

"They look so happy." There was a hint of envy in Rose's voice.

Scorpius let his eyes drift back to her face - a face he knew as well as, if not better than, his own. "They're a good match," was all he allowed himself to say.

"I know." Rose was silent for a moment before she sighed a little and turned to him, brisker now. "So, death by invention detail or death by wedding organisation?"

"Are there any options that don't involve death?"

"Don't be silly. Of course there aren't!"

"Then I suppose I have to choose death by invention detail."

Scorpius spent the next hour listening to Rose as she explained her latest spells and inventions while assorted friends came and went, greeted, gossiped, and gabbled, and a marquee full of people celebrated the wedding of Albus Severus Potter to Hilary Ai-Lin Lee.

But when it was time for the married couple to Apparate off to their honeymoon, and Rose was having a last hug and giggle with Hils before the departure, Scorpius glanced sideways at his best mate and felt a pang of envy to match Rose's earlier comment.

Al saw the glance and arched a brow. "What?"

"Nothing," Scorpius said hastily. "Congratulations. Again."

"Thanks. It's been a good night. And going to get better."

"Hey, I don't need to know. Just don't break the headboard."

Al arched a dark brow, his eyes gleaming as he looked over at his friend. "I thought you didn't want to know, Scorps. Oh, and thanks for letting Rose stay over to complete the decoy. I really didn't want Fred or Louis getting any ideas about pranking Hils and me tonight."

"Your cousins are a menace to society."

"We're not exactly tame lions," murmured Al as Hilary came up to them, a slim white purse dangling from her hand. "Hey, Hils, ready to go?"

Hils beamed up at her new husband. "Nearly. After Scorpius gives me a hug."

Scorpius not only gave her a hug, but swung her off her feet, making her squeal with laughter.

The day Hilary Lee had punched a Slytherin third year in the face for calling her a Mudblood had been one of the most fortunate days of Scorpius' life. Without her acting as a kind of intercessor between him, Albus, and Rose in those earliest days at Hogwarts, he'd probably have eventually drifted back into the clique of Slytherins and become everything his father had hoped he'd be.

All things considered, Scorpius preferred to be what he was.

He set Hilary down on her feet. "Keep him in line, okay? Don't let him do anything stupid."

"'Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.'" Hils batted her lashes at her husband who scowled when Rose grinned and nudged him ungently.

"You married me," Al reminded his wife as he slid an arm around her waist.

"So I did. Silly of me. You look after yourself, Scorpius."

"I can always be relied upon to do that," he quipped and kissed her cheek. "Be happy, Hils."

But as the newlyweds said goodbye to their parents, Scorpius felt a small pang in his chest.

It wasn't jealousy. Fond as he was of Hils, Scorpius had never felt the faintest stirrings for her that way. And Al was the best mate a man could ever have asked to have.

It was just that Al had always seemed to live a charmed life. If he ever felt he stood in the shadow of his famous father, or his handsome, charming brother, Al still had family who were there for him, friends who backed him up as well as kept him honest, a witch who adored him, and whom he adored in return.

And Scorpius? He had a few friends, sure - Albus, Rose, and Hilary, a handful of old Slytherins from Hogwarts, and several buddies in his team - but mostly he had himself and his career, and his family name like a millstone around his neck.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

He turned his head and found Rose beside and behind him, her chin almost resting on his shoulder.

"Just a Knut? They're worth at least a Galleon."

"I don't have that much money on me, so I'll take the Knut version, please."

Scorpius grinned. "When are you coming around?"

"After the cleanup. You can leave beforehand if you like."

He glanced around at the army of Weasley children and grandchildren being called upon to help with the clean-up around the Burrow by old Molly Weasley. The matriarch of the Weasley clan saw him with Rose, and her eyes narrowed.

Scorpius put on his most harmlessly innocent expression. Not that it would make a difference with old Molly.

He'd never been exactly popular with the Weasleys. Oh, most welcomed him politely enough: Rose's parents and Al's dad had been surprisingly civil given what Scorpius' dad had to say about them. Others had varying degrees of tolerance, although Hugo, Lily, Roxy, and Luce could be relied upon to treat him more or less the way they treated anyone who ended up attached to their family - with complete irreverence and enthusiastic inclusion.

But Rose and Albus' Weasley grandparents had never liked him, and Scorpius would never forget the frown that had twitched across the face of Al's mum on the first day of term in their second year, when Al had introduced Scorpius to his parents on Platform 9¾.

Still, he'd never let a Weasley's disapproval chase him away from Rose or Al before, and he wasn't about to start now.

"I'll stay and help. Maybe if there's so many of you, she won't notice me so much?"

Rose bit back a laugh. "You just keep on believing that, Malfoy."

\--

Nearly an hour later, Scorpius unlocked the door of his apartment and waved Rose in.

"So this is the infamous Muggle apartment of Scorpius Malfoy." Her heels clicked across the floor of polished wood as she took a good look around at the room. "I'm impressed."

"I've impressed Rose Weasley. My life is now complete."

Her laugh rang out in the sparsely furnished space as she crossed over to the windows - floor to ceiling glass that covered the southern face of the apartment.

"The views are amazing," she said with a smiling glance over her shoulder. "I see why you picked it."

"I figured it was as close to flying through Muggle London as I was going to get without actually breaking the Statue of Secrecy."

"Oh, then this is definitely better. I'd hate to have to break you out of Azkaban."

"We'd have to go on the run from the law."

"Ugh. I'd hate being on the run. Hugo would never let me live it down. My mum and dad would be furious. And the picture they'd have of me in the Prophet's 'Wizarding World's Most Wanted' would probably be that awful one they took after I got the job of Senior HexMaster at Gringotts."

"That _was_ an awful photo. It would be terrible if the Prophet had to run it again." Scorpius grinned. "Looks like it's just as well that I bought this apartment, then, isn't it?"

Rose smirked as she turned back to the window, entranced by the view.

Scorpius leaned against the wall, stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers and let the silence stretch comfortably out as he watched her surveying the city below.

At the wedding, the witchlights masquerading as candlelight had given her a warm glow, bringing out the red highlights in her hair. In everything but sunlight, Rose Weasley was a brunette; in full sunlight, she was a fiery redhead. In fact, Scorpius had tracked her in the Hogwarts Quidditch matches purely by the gleam of her hair amidst the blacks and blondes and browns of her fellow Ravenclaws.

Now, with the apartment lights out, the only illumination coming in was the lights of the city below them, spread out like a glittering splatter across the face of the land. The cold bluish light leached her skin of colour, defining the fine bones of her face like a sculptor’s model of one of those ancient goddesses - the kind that would break a man's heart without even thinking about it.

Sometimes it felt like Scorpius had been watching Rose Weasley for most of his life.

Sometimes he thought it would be nice if she'd look back at him and _see_ him.

Then she turned, tilting her head to the side. "Do I get the grand tour?"

"Of course."

It was quite a large unit in Muggle terms: three bedrooms, living space, kitchen...the usual things. Rose peered into the rooms one by one. "Nice," she said, pulling back the curtains of Scorpius' room so she could see out. "Very spacious."

"So glad you approve."

It was hard to see in the dim light, but she might have blushed. But she continued on with typical briskness. "You're going to find it difficult living without magic."

"Am I? I thought that was why I had you around," Scorpius grinned as she turned on him with narrowed eyes. "To come up with ways to integrate Muggle technology with wizardry."

"I thought you had me around to keep your ego in check," Rose retorted, lifting her gaze to the electrical light fittings on the ceiling. "Water and gas might work - they're mechanical rather than technological - but electricity will be a complete loss."

"Does your mind ever stop working? And since when have I ever used Muggle technology? Or needed to."

"True. You're actually going to live here?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Rose gave him the look she usually reserved for idiots and people talking too loudly at the next table. "Because you're Scorpius Malfoy and you've never had to do for yourself in your entire life?"

"I can learn!"

"But will you?"

"Watch me!" Stung by her prodding, he glared at her, only to feel his lips twitch as the corners of her mouth deepened as though she was repressing a smile. "Oh, you're a menace, Weasley." He scowled as she burst into laughter.

"You're such an easy mark, Malfoy!"

He shook his head. "I'll learn what I have to - it can't be that hard."

The look Rose gave him said quite clearly that she thought he was barmy. Maybe he was. His father had certainly had plenty to say about Scorpius' choice of apartment, and although his mother was accepting enough, he knew she'd never be comfortable with the idea of him living out in the Muggle world.

Truth was, Scorpius wasn't comfortable with the idea of living out in the Muggle world, either. But between his family name and the fame of his career, he had no privacy in the wizarding world.

He hoped he'd get a little peace here.

It wasn't Malfoy Manor, but it was _his_.

"Well," Rose said after giving the view another longing look, "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

"Your stuff's in the next room."

"Does it have a view?"

"Sorry. Only the living room and this one have the view."

"Swap beds?" She sighed when he shook his head - a theatrical, put-upon sigh which made him smile as she went out.

Scorpius closed the door before he stripped down and slipped into his sleeping robes. The Muggle formal gear went into the back of the closet - he'd have to pull them out the next time Al and Hils had something that involved Hils' relatives. Not that they were awful, but they weren't exactly his idea of comfortable either.

His nightly routine involved a glass of Firewhisky before bed, sitting out in the living room with the city spread out below him.

But when he walked out of his room, he found Rose already sitting backwards on the couch, facing the windows and brushing out her hair.

"Like the view?" Scorpius drawled.

Rose rolled her eyes and didn't turn from staring out the window, still running the brush through her hair. "As a matter of fact, yes."

The words ' _So do I'_ hovered on his lips before he swallowed them back.

She was wearing Muggle sleeping clothes - a pair of silky shorts in black that showed off long white legs, and a matching top with strings for straps.

Scorpius crossed to the bar to get his glass of Ogden's Best Firewhisky, surreptitiously adjusting his bedgown as he went. The last thing he needed Rose to know was that the sight of her on his couch getting ready for bed was capable of turning him on.

Friendship only went so far.

"Firewhisky?"

"Sure," she said, her hands still moving rhythmically through her hair. But when he sat down on the other end of the couch and held the glass out to her, she plucked it from his hand with a Floating Charm and let it hover in the air between them.

Scorpius took a slow sip of his Firewhisky and watched her, bemused. She'd grown her hair out from the bob she'd sported in their last year at Hogwarts, and it was nearly down to her waist now - a great mass of waving strands that fluffed around her.

"Why don't you just use a Detangling Charm?"

"Because that just straightens the hair." Rose didn't stop the strokes of the brush across her head. "Brushing massages the head, improves blood flow to the scalp. And it's soothing."

"A bedtime routine." Scorpius wrapped his hands around the crystal tumbler so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out and wind a strand around his finger. Or run his fingers through the curls. Or lean over and take a taste of the lips that pursed as she ran the brush through her hair.

So maybe having Rose stay the night wasn't such a good idea after all.

"As much as your Firewhisky. One hundred strokes every night."

"What are you up to?"

"Sixty."

"Can I?" He didn't realise the words were out of his mouth until her hands paused. "Never mind."

"You want to brush my hair?"

"Call me curious."

After a moment, she offered him the brush, and he put his glass of Firewhisky aside and took the brush from her hand. Rose retrieved her floating glass and turned so she had her back to him, shining waves down her back.

Scorpius tentatively drew the first stroke down.

"You can press harder, you know," she said, taking a sip of Firewhisky. "Oh, Merlin, this is the good stuff, isn't it?"

"Nothing but the best." Scorpius said absently, his attention on her hair.

It was soft under his hands and slid between his fingers like water. The skin of her shoulders and back was warm and smooth where his knuckles grazed her as he tugged gently through the tangles that formed in the lower ends. And she smelled of...cinnamon and faint citrus, spicy and sharp.

Peace and quiet, and Rose Weasley sitting on his couch with him, watching the view that had entranced him the first time he'd seen it, while he brushed out her hair in preparation for bed.

"Ninety-seven," she murmured, "ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred..."

His mouth was dry as dust as he offered the hairbrush back. His heart was pounding, and he felt cold and warm all at once and frozen where he sat as she swept her hair up and fixed it with some Muggle clip that was all fang-like prongs.

The sight of the curve of her throat and shoulder was like a fist in his gut and he took his glass of Firewhisky and drained it in a single gulp. Maybe the burn of the alcohol would distract him from the burn under his breastbone, from the ache in his balls.

No such luck.

Rose was just turning when he put the glass aside and leaned over.

It was a risk, but he had to take it. Just one small risk. Just this once.

It would only be once.

But as Scorpius pressed his mouth to the join of shoulder and neck, folding his lips about the warm, scented flesh, he knew he was lying to himself.

She froze, tensing with her cheek resting against his forehead. "Scorpius?"

Under his cheekbone, the pulse in her throat jumped, a leaping, stuttering beat that raced through her veins. Fear or excitement? Only one way to find out.

"What are you--?"

Her voice trembled and died as he slid his lips up the curve of her throat, slow and easy. She was just a woman, and he'd had women before.

"Isn't it obvious, Rose?" He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and listened to her make a sound like a moan, soft and involuntary. "I'm seducing you."

It was a calculated gamble on his part. Rose had never given him the kind of signals he'd received from other witches who were interested in sleeping with him. She teased him and mocked him and moved through his life like a force of nature, never afraid to push him, never stepping back from his challenges.

But there was something about the night - about the wedding and her envy of it, about the way she'd pulled open his curtains like she had the right to be in his room, about the way she'd looked at him when he'd offered to brush her hair...

He would have stopped if she'd wanted - if she'd asked him to get away from her, pushed him away, or reached for her wand.

He would have stepped back if she'd asked it of him, repaired the damage to their friendship, made whatever amends she asked.

She didn't ask him to stop, didn't tell him to step back.

Fingers touched his cheek, cool fingertips sliding up his jaw and into his hair, and her voice was hoarse when she murmured, "You'd better be sure about this, Malfoy."

His hands came around her waist - so slim and lean and warm, and he leaned into her hand. " _You'd_ better be sure about this, Weasley."

Rose turned her head and looked into his eyes, bright hazel to cool grey, and the corners of her mouth curled in a silent smile as she angled her face up to his, and he brought his mouth down to hers, and they slid into softness and heat and desire.

\--

One of the curses of Scorpius being a professional athlete was that his body was too accustomed to an early rise for training every day. As a result, he tended to wake up shortly after dawn, no matter what time he'd been to bed the previous night.

This morning was no different.

Well, in some respects, anyway.

Scorpius smirked to himself as he shifted in the sheets, stretching languorously before rolling over. He expected to come in contact with a warm, hopefully naked body...at the least find himself staring into a sleepy, well-satisfied face under a tangle of auburn hair...

The other side of the bed was empty.

Startled awake, he sat up, staring at the rumpled sheets and open door. She'd _left_? "Rose?"

A mumble came from the next room, and, relieved, he crawled out of bed and paused at the door of Rose's room.

Rose had burrowed down inside a mass of sheets, and seemed to be curled up like a beetle. Her hair rioted over the pillow in the morning light as she cracked one eye open. "Too early."

"Mind if I come in?"

"'S your place." But she grumbled a little when he tugged the sheets away from her body. "Cold."

"I can change that." Scorpius leaned over and kissed her, soft and slow and rousing. "Why'd you leave?"

"You hog the sheets." Her voice was husky and lazy, hazel eyes low-lidded, but she ran her hands down his flanks, making him shiver. "Nice."

"I hope I'm just a bit better than 'nice'," he murmured against her throat, letting his hands wander over sleek curves and feeling her pulse jump against his lips. "Need a wake-up call?"

"If you like."

He liked.

Scorpius wasn't a stranger to waking up with a woman in his bed. He generally tried to avoid it when possible - it implied more intimacy than he liked to give. But this wasn't some Quidditch groupie, wanting to say she'd banged Scorpius Malfoy; this a woman he liked, respected, was friends with.

This was Rose. And she hadn't woken up in his bed at all.

He ignored the splinter of annoyance he felt at her 'defection', and focused instead on making her regret that she'd left him sleeping alone.

There was something about seducing a woman who was only half-awake - aware enough to consent and enjoy, but not at full throttle. It was a particularly delightful when the woman was Rose Weasley, who was too clever by half and so sharp she'd cut herself.

In the morning light, she was all languor and laziness, boneless sprawl and unguarded reaction.

Scorpius devoted himself to waking Rose up very slowly, with light kisses and teasing touches. His fingers slid down her thighs to cup her knee, and she laughed and licked the line of his jaw. Then she nearly bit down when his fingers slid back up her leg and into the cleft between her thighs.

"You're such a tease, Malfoy." she murmured, arching her hips against his fingers for better pressure.

"And you love it, don't you, Weasley?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, lashes drooping over her eyes. "Feels so good..."

Scorpius kissed her once, then skimmed his lips down her body to where his fingers slicked against sensitive flesh. "It's going to get better."

He took his time licking her into a quivering, begging wreck, then thrust her over the edge, sharp and sudden, and revelled in watching her soar, drowning her moans in his mouth.

Was there anything hotter than Rose Weasley left boneless from pleasure?

Scorpius didn't think so.

"You didn't finish," she murmured when he tugged the sheets over them.

His cock was stiff and aching, and yeah, he hadn't finished. He wanted to bury himself to his balls in her flesh and ride her until they were both shaking, but Rose was drowsing off again, and he wanted her properly awake when he was in her, moving.

Besides, it had been satisfying in an entirely different way to reduce her to incoherence and watch her take what he gave. "You'll just have to owe me."

"Ever the Slytherin."

"You're the clever one. Would you expect anything else?"

Her mouth curved beneath still-hazy eyes, and she snuggled into him. "Nope."

Scorpius sighed a little as she went limp against him. His body ached, and he had been hoping...

Well, enough of that. He wasn't going to demand sex from her, like he had a right. She'd have hexed him if he even tried. And pain and discipline were part of life as a professional athlete. If it came down to it, he could manage himself, and would.

And it felt good to lie in bed with Rose curled up against him, her fingers resting on his breastbone, her breathing easy.

He let himself relax into the feeling, just for a little while.

\--

The world of Muggles was both fascinating and frightening, Scorpius thought as he waited to cross the road, bouncing slightly from foot to foot to keep his muscles warm and limber.

He'd managed to relax next to Rose for nearly half an hour before the desire to be up and doing became too much. He figured a run would be good both for his body and to clear his mind.

In spite of his family's rather sordid history, Scorpius quite liked the Muggle world. It was...strange and odd and peculiar to his wizarding sensibilities, but also impressive and clever and unexpected. He had to admire a bunch of people who, lacking magic, had found a whole other way of doing things. Not as neatly as magic, perhaps - who wanted to spend hours on end in a tin can to get to your destination when you could just Apparate there? Still, Muggles got the job done in their own way.

Of course, that wasn't a particularly Malfoy thought. He'd have been in huge trouble with his grandparents if he'd said any such thing when he was a kid.

These days, with the Malfoys almost restored to their former level of respectability, such sentiments were kept firmly behind the doors of Malfoy Manor, and mostly parroted by his dotard grandfather. Lucius was still angry about the outcome of the Second War and the defeat of the Dark Lord. Part of that was doubtless because of the reparations the Malfoys had been forced to pay. Combined with the Malfoys' decline in social status, and the elevation of the hated Weasleys, Scorpius' grandfather never regarded the defeat of the Dark Lord as anything but a tragedy for their family.

Privately, Scorpius thought Dad and Grandmother were relieved that the Dark Lord had failed in the end. Whatever his grandfather's ambitions, neither Draco nor Narcissa Malfoy had ever spoken of the Second War as anything but a time they'd rather forget.

The pedestrian lights went green and Scorpius jogged across the road, weaving through Muggles as he headed back towards the apartment.

It would have been interesting to cross the road with an Avoid-Me Charm, in which case everything would have jumped out of his way so as to leave him a clear path. But that would have been a violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and would result in a fine at best and Azkaban at worst.

This whole 'living in the Muggle world' thing was certainly going be interesting - even if he didn't plan to spend too much time there.

He took the lift instead of Apparating from the lobby. If it became necessary, the doorman's memory could be Obliviated, but it was a waste of time and energy when Scorpius could just take the lift.

The door of his apartment unlocked at his muttered _Alohomora_ , and he entered the apartment to the sound of the weekend morning program on the wizarding wireless and the wafting aroma of bacon and toast and coffee.

It seemed Rose had discovered the kitchen.

"Coffee," she said, pointing at the plunger jar, clad in a sleek green robe, a steaming coffee in hand. "Bacon and eggs." She pointed at the pan. "Toast." She pointed at the toaster.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have an excellent grasp of the English language?"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy."

Scorpius grinned as he planted his hands on either side of her on the kitchen counter, trapping her in. "Make me, Weasley."

Hazel eyes narrowed up at him. Then, with a shrug, Rose slid the robe off her shoulders.

She was utterly naked beneath it.

Scorpius had time to take one good look before her hands slid around his neck and her mouth took his with a ferocity that buckled his knees and set fire to his senses. And he gave as good as he was getting...

Rose's fingers slid into his shorts.

Well, _almost_ as good.

Her tongue stroked into his mouth as her fingers closed about him intimately, sending his thoughts scrambling for the exits. He scrabbled for control - just a thread of it - and brought his hand down on hers

"Not here," he groaned. "Not in the kitchen."

Rose pouted, her eyes gleaming as she tilted her head back. "But I'm _good_ in the kitchen, Scorpius."

"Minx." Impossible not to laugh at her. Impossible to resist giving her a deep, delving kiss when her mouth was so soft and pink and swollen below his. "At least let's make it to the couch."

They made it to the couch - just.

Rose refused to let go of him, so Scorpius stumbled blindly after her, one arm wrapped around her body with her breast in his hand, the other clenching in her hair as her fingers squeezed the swollen tip of his erection.

She was on him almost as soon as his buttocks hit the cushions - sleek and wet and impossibly sexy as she yanked down his shorts just far enough so she could sheath him with one hard thrust.

Scorpius groaned.

He had no leverage seated, no way to hurry her up. And from the easy way Rose moved on him, Scorpius judged that she was planning to make this last.

Fine, then. Two of them could play at being sensuous, and he wasn't a green boy to go off like a badly-cast jinx. Scorpius bent and sucked a nipple into his mouth and smirked against the swell of her breast when she whimpered. Then whimpered himself when she clenched around him.

But he suckled harder on the pert, pretty nipple, and slid his finger between their bodies, scraping his fingertip against her clit.

Rose shuddered. "Oh, Merlin!"

"Merlin's not here," he managed as she rose off him, then sank down again. "Just you and me, Rose."

"And the view."

"Oh, let's not forget the viewwww...." He clenched his teeth as she rose off him _and_ tightened as she did so. The sensation was...incredible. Hot and slick and wet and tight and... "Fuck, Weasley!"

"Isn't that what we're doing, Malfoy?"

For that, he dragged her back down onto him, a little rough, but the friction was incredible - for her as well as him if her moan was anything to go by. His fingers kneaded her bottom, stroked her clit, cupped her breasts as she rose and fell on him, over and over, until it was all Scorpius could do to hold on.

"Come on," he murmured against her throat. "Let go, Rose. Come for me. Look at me..."

He wanted to see her come, to feel her shudder on him in daylight - no shadows, no sleepiness, nothing but the bright gleam of her eyes and the full awareness of whose cock she was riding to ecstasy.

Rose lifted her cheek from his forehead, and met his gaze, half-smiling, half-aching, and he could feel that she was close... He laced his fingers into hers and leaned back as she cried out, her cheeks heated and pink, her lips parted and swollen. Her eyes glazed, and he let go, emptying himself into her until there was nothing left to give.

In the panting aftermath, Rose listed gently forward until their foreheads touched. Then her eyes closed, and Scorpius let his eyes drift shut and listened to his heartbeat thunder as she rested against him.

It felt so good with Rose sitting astride him, limp, damp, and naked in his arms.

He tilted his head a little, not losing contact, and brushed his mouth across her cheek.

"Nice," she murmured, and he felt her smile against his skin. "Very nice."

"I was thinking that myself." Scorpius disentangled his fingers from hers, and let his hands drift up her arms and over to her breasts. He cupped them in his hands, and nuzzled her jaw. "Very, _very_ nice."

"Scorpius..."

"Relax," he drawled and hefted her breasts in his hands. "I'm just enjoying the view."

It was quite a view - and one that he'd definitely like to see more often if Rose gave him the chance. Which he thought she rather might. After all, she wasn't pushing him away or acting shy - although neither of those were particularly Rose-esque behaviours.

Right now, she was laughing at him and lifting her arms to pull the loose strands of her hair out of her face. "You look like my cat after she's been fed cream."

"Why shouldn't I?" Scorpius shifted a little under her thighs, still slick and slippery from her wetness and his seed, and smirked up at her. "I seem to have plenty of cre--"

Rose cut him off with a kiss - swift and light. "You are a _very_ wicked man, Scorpius Malfoy."

He kissed her back, lingering teasing, with a slide of his tongue across her lower lip. "But I was _very_ good, wasn't I, Rose Weasley?"

She smiled. "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

"Of course. Don't you remember that I've always exceeded expectations in insufferability?"

"Of course," Rose echoed with a roll of her eyes.

"And," he added, "in being very, _very_ good."

That made her laugh, as he'd known it would. "Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Scorpius arched a brow at her. "Don't I have good reason?"

Rose sighed, but it sounded amused and rueful rather than despairing, which was a good thing. "I guess you do."

"You guess?"

"You know you do, you conceited pig." The epithet was added without malice, and something inside Scorpius eased back a little. That kind of teasing and affection from Rose was a good sign. There wasn't going to be awkwardness between them because of last night and this morning.

He let his hands slide off her breasts and around her back so he was holding her more or less against him. Rose didn't struggle, but slid her arms over his shoulder and relaxed against him, resting her cheek against the top of his head.

It was...nice.

Peaceful.

And perhaps just a little bit sexy to be sitting on his couch with his shorts barely off his balls, his joggers still on his feet, and Rose Weasley sprawled naked on his lap.

"So," Scorpius said after a while. "What were your plans for today?"

Rose exhaled and shifted back. "Go back to my flat and pick up some stuff I need. Head off to Al and Hils around dinnertime - Al reckoned they'd be out by then. Maybe do some tinkering. There's a workshop out the back that Al said he's not using and which I could work in. What about you?"

"Well," he began, "I _was_ going to head into Diagon Alley and meet Elycia and Corin for lunch, and maybe catch up with Vikas for dinner...."

"You _were_?"

He slid his hands down her back, until he was cupping her bottom again. "Now I'm thinking of dining in...."

"Scorpius..."

"But if you want, it can wait until after..."

He made his voice light and casual - teasing. For a moment, he thought that maybe he'd misread the whole situation - that this was a one-off, never to be repeated and she was about to bring him down to the ground with a hard bump. Then Rose gave him a long, searching look and smiled - a smile that quivered in his belly.

"I always liked dessert."

Scorpius grinned as he captured her lips with his own.


	2. Chapter 2

The month following Al’s wedding passed in a blur.

Scorpius’ original plan for the summer had involved spending time with his friends in and around Diagon Alley. Take it easy. Catch up with his friends from Slytherin, see his parents. Spend time with Al and Hils and Rose once Al and Hils came back from their honeymoon.

There were meetings with his parents and his father’s men of business, conversations with his manager and various Quidditch clubs. Lunches with witches and wizards who didn’t care that he was a Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, so long as he could play the Game. And, of course, there were the publicity rounds.

Then there was Rose.

Scorpius found time to visit Al’s house most afternoons than not, to look in on Rose as she tinkered with her widgets, worked on her spells, and sent and received innumerable owls from Gringotts.

It was so peaceful to sit on the battered and burned old couch in the corner, reading the latest news or wizarding treatise, conversing in fits and starts while she immersed herself in her work, barely noticing him. After a lifetime spent being watched by everyone - first for being a Malfoy, then for becoming famous at Quidditch - quiet acceptance was beyond precious to Scorpius.

And there were the nights.

Rose refused to succumb to seduction at Al’s house - she claimed it would be weird sleeping with her cousin’s best friend in her cousin’s house. But there were nights when they locked the door of the workshop, cast the perimeter spells, and Apparated to Scorpius’ apartment - and barely got the door closed behind them before she had her mouth on his.

Scorpius liked the nights.

Rose seemed happy with their relationship, although she wasn’t exactly telling everyone they were sleeping together. Which was more than fine by Scorpius, who liked having Rose to himself - no photographers popping by to get a picture of them together, no journalists from Witch Weekly attempting to get exclusive interviews, no comments from fellow Quidditch players, Slytherins, or his parents.

Just him and Rose.

Still, he knew that at some stage, that would change. It would have to.

So it was with some trepidation that he arrived at the Apparition point at Al and Hils’ house - Potter’s Field - one afternoon in midsummer, a few days before Al and Hils were due back from their honeymoon.

The grass in the yard was growing long, and Scorpius frowned, and pulled out his wand. A few definitions and a Severing charm later, the grass was cutting itself in neat swathes and bundling up to the compost pile down by the vegetable garden.

As he turned back to the workshop, he caught the scarlet glitter of the sun off Rose’s hair and saw her lift her hand in a wave before turning back to her work.

“Thanks for that,” she said as he came in. “I was going to do it this morning when I arrived, but then there was an attempt on one of the vaults at Gringotts and everything’s been in chaos since then. Oh bother!”

An owl had just sidled in through the window, fluffing its feathers importantly, and regarding Rose and Scorpius with an unblinking gaze.

“I told Pickwitt that I wouldn’t be taking any more owls this afternoon,” she muttered as she took the letter from the owl and began opening it. “He seems to honestly believe that everyone else lives for work, too. Give him a treat, will you, Scorpius?”

She pointed at a small jar of meaty-looking things which were presumably the treats she referred to. Scorpius gingerly fished one out and tossed it to the owl, who promptly snapped it up, then tilted its head as though wondering if it could cadge any more.

“Sorry, mate,” he murmured, and held out a finger for the owl to nibble. “Is he waiting for a reply?”

“Yes,” Rose said. “I’m just... Oh, I guess I might as well...” She grabbed for a piece of parchment, scribbled a few more notes on it, rolled it up, and tied it to the owl’s message ring. “Thank you. I’m sorry about all the back and forth today.”

The owl flipped its wings as though shrugging, then shuffled back out through the window perch, and launched itself into the sky.

Rose sat down on the stool by the workbench and sighed. “You’d think that there’d never been a break-in attempt at Gringotts.”

“But they do tend to be memorable.”

“One way of putting it.” Rose began tidying up the desk space. “Unfortunately, ever since Pickwitt became head of security, we’ve been jumping at shadows. And now with this latest attempt - which I can’t tell you about, so don’t ask,” she added when he opened his mouth, “Pickwitt’s got the whole bank security in a fluster. Including me. Hi, how was your day?”

Scorpius had sat himself down in the couch and stretched out his legs, smiling. “Not half so interesting as yours, from the sound of it.”

“There’s said to be a Muggle curse that goes, ‘May your life be interesting,’” Rose said. “I think mine’s quite interesting enough, actually.”

“Well, mine was quiet. I spoke with Quirke today about my contract, and Puddlemere United is signing me up again.”

“As they should.” Rose grinned at him. “Happy?”

“It’s not unexpected. But yeah, it’s good to be employed for another year.” Not that he’d had any doubt about being signed up again. There were any number of teams who would have emptied their coffers to have him play for them. He liked playing for Puddlemere United, though.

There was just one small-ish problem. And it wasn’t even really a problem.

“There’s a dinner on Friday night in Diagon Alley - at the Meetery. It’s to celebrate the signing of the next season’s contract, which we’ll be doing that afternoon. Full promotion stuff - the papers, the magazines, wizarding wireless. I thought you might like to come.”

It was a simple request on the surface - dinner in Diagon Alley. It was the undercurrents that made it complex - and the consequences. This wasn’t just a dinner out - two friends in company - it was going public about them and their relationship - such as it stood.

So far, other than a lunch the other day at the Three Broomsticks - which was excusable as two old friends catching up - the only person who’d seen them together was Rose’s cousin Fred, who’d dropped by to see Rose’s work on her gadgets the other day and found Scorpius sitting on the couch. The conversation had been casual on Fred’s part, mostly about the National and International Quidditch Leagues and where things were heading next year, but Rose had seemed edgy until Fred left.

Scorpius hadn’t really questioned Rose’s reluctance to stay over at his apartment at night until then.

After that, however, he’d begun to wonder.

Now, he arched an eyebrow at her as she nibbled on a fingernail. “You don’t have to if you’re scared,” he drawled, masking anxiety beneath arrogance.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Don’t turn this into a challenge, Scorpius. The issue isn’t fear.”

“You just need to think it through?”

“No,” she said, and her tone was just a little sharp. “I’ll come. But you _do_ realise that they’ll think...”

He tilted his head when she trailed off. “Aren’t we?”

“We’re sleeping together.” Her cheeks were flushed, but her gaze never flinched from him. “We’re not...I don’t know...planning to get married.”

He held onto the flash of temper that rose in him. “I’ll keep that in mind before I start looking at wedding necklets.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Don’t be snarky, Scorpius. You’ve been in the public eye for too long not to know the conclusions they’ll leap to.”

“And you’ve known me long enough to know that I’m not suddenly going to announce we’re desperately in love, about to get engaged, and be married before Christmas!”

“Yes,” she said simply, “I have. But I thought we should get this straightened out from the start.”

“And have we?”

She hesitated a moment then looked down and away. “Yes.”

Embarrassed by what she’d said, but unrepentant. That was Rose Weasley to the core; she did what she had to do, and would live with the consequences of it. Angry as Scorpius was at the careful way she’d codified their relationship, he could still admire that she’d drawn her lines and would stand firm behind them.

“Good.” Then, because he was just a little angry with her, he got to his feet, crossed the space between them and closed his lips over hers.

It wasn’t exactly a gentle kiss, but Scorpius had learned that Rose didn’t always want gentle from him. And when her fingers slid up his nape to clench in his hair, he knew he’d gotten it right this time.

He deepened the kiss, trapping her between his body and the workbench while her hands slid down the front of his shirt to rest lightly on his chest...

Rose tilted her head to the side a little, an invitation to nuzzle her throat, and Scorpius took it, wondering if he could persuade her to christen the couch. Obviously her view wouldn’t be as spectacular as it was back at his apartment but they would make do...

Then she caught her breath and pushed at his shoulders, and it took Scorpius another two nips to her throat before he heard voices coming along the path up to the workshop.

“Expecting guests?”

He was tempted to let them find him and Rose exactly like this. Just to push the point.

“My parents,” she hissed, hastily running her hands over her hair, and turning around to face the bench and her work there.

Scorpius stepped back, his stomach bottoming out. “You were expecting your parents and didn’t tell me?”

“This is your ‘we’re not married’ reminder,” Rose said, more than a little shortly. “We’re going to grab some dinner out in Muggle London. And no, you can’t come.”

He’d only thought about inviting himself along for a split second.

Scorpius sat back down on the couch and picked up the nearest magazine before realising it was an edition of _Witch Weekly_ and he’d rather gouge his eyes out than be caught reading it. Only it was already too late, because there was a knock at the workshop door and Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ronald Weasley walked in.

“Hello, darling. Sorry we’re early, but your father finished early and I thought--” It was at this point that Rose’s mum saw Scorpius. “Oh, hello, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Hi, Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley.”

Behind his wife’s shoulder, Mr. Weasley fixed him with a hard gaze beneath lifted brows. “Malfoy. Dropped by to see Rose, then?”

“And cut the grass,” he said, jerking a shoulder at the window where the Severing Charm was doing the last bit of the yard. “I promised Al I’d help keep the house.”

“I thought Rose was going to look after that.” Somehow Mr. Weasley managed to give the impression that if he thought Scorpius had put one finger wrong, he was going to find himself in all the trouble an Auror could make for the grandson of a known Death Eater.

“She was busy with work today,” Scorpius said, promptly. “So she called me in to help.”

“Nice of you to assist,” said Mr. Weasley with pointed amiability, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. The movement incidentally dislodged his jacket, which slid back to reveal his wand holster just under his arm. Warning received, loud and clear. Blue eyes rested on Scorpius a moment longer before he swivelled to give his daughter his full attention. “Ready to go to dinner, Rosie?”

“In a minute, Dad.” She shuffled the parchments into piles, then waved her wand over them. They leaped at her command, edges fluttering like a small army of birds as they filed themselves away with ruthless neatness. “Thanks for the help, Scorpius. I’ll see you later.”

Clever girl, to put meaning into the phrase and make it sound casual. Scorpius took the exit offered with more than a little relief. “It wasn’t a problem. Later, then. Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley...”

Outside, in the open air, he could breathe again. Sort of.

The Weasleys - Rose’s parents - had always been civil to him. Polite and pleasant, but in a way that Scorpius had instantly recognised as a kind of snub, even back when he was a kid.

He’d never managed to quite shake the belief that Hermione Granger-Weasley knew his every thought as effortlessly as if she was an accomplished Legilmens and he’d never done anything but fail at Occlumency. Or that Ron Weasley would gladly _Avada Kedavra_ him, given the opportunity and a complete lack of consequences.

He wondered what they’d would have to say when they found out that Rose was sleeping with him.

That was one conversation he _really_ didn’t want to have with Rose’s dad.

Scorpius glanced back at the workshop, where the Weasleys were visible - and, from the look of things - arguing over something. He saw Rose half-turn as her father made a gesture in his direction and winced. It didn’t take any imagination to know that Mr. Weasley wanted to know exactly what Scorpius was doing around here.

Rose looked a little uncomfortable, but she caught his eye and smiled briefly.

 _Friday,_ he mouthed to her and saw her nod.

Then he apparated away.

\--

One of the curses of Scorpius being a professional athlete was that his body was too accustomed to an early rise for training every day. As a result, he tended to wake up shortly after six, no matter what time he’d been to bed the previous night.

Of course, when the previous night had seen him up past midnight before he made it home, and up past three even once he got home, his body clock was utterly and completely broken.

His body felt not too far behind it.

So he didn’t hear the notifying chirp of the AVA - the Arriving Visitor Alarm - when his unexpected guest arrived.

He _did_ hear the bellow.

Not surprising since it was directly in his ear.

“Up and at ‘em, you motherless son of rabid dogs!”

Scorpius jerked out of bed and onto his feet before he realised it wasn’t Coach von Drache screaming in his ear, but one smirking Albus Severus Potter.

“Rise and shine, Malfoy!”

“I hate you, Potter,” he said, flopping back on his pillows. His head ached like he’d drunk enough Firewhiskey to fill the lake around Hogwarts - which he kind of had, and his body ached like he’d played a two-day game of Quidditch, which he kind of hadn’t.

Although he _had_ come home and shagged Rose Weasley - his now-official girlfriend - until they were both exhausted.

“It’s good to see you, too,” said Al grinning in a way that could only be called malicious. “I’d ask where Rose is, but I already know the answer. She’s with Hils, exclaiming over the pictures from our honeymoon, while doubtless very cleverly avoiding any of Hils’ obvious questions about the relationship between the two of you.”

From behind his back, he produced the Daily Prophet and held it up so Scorpius could see the front page headlines writ stark in black ink.

_THE MALFOY WANTS A WEASLEY WIFE!_

_STAR-CROSSED LOVERS OUT IN PUBLIC!_

_FAMILIES IN MORTAL ENMITY!_

It was worse than Scorpius had imagined, although the picture below the headlines was empty...well, sort of empty. There were several people trying to drag him and Rose back into the frame - among them, Scorpius’ manager Quirke - but they were resisting. Even as he watched, one of the figures was flung back by a curse - he thought it looked like a full Body-Bind.

Yep, that was them, all right.

“Merlin’s balls,” he muttered.

“Actually, it’s your balls they’re more interested in right now,” Al said with rather more cheerfulness than Scorpius thought was warranted at this hour. Then he pulled the newspaper back as Scorpius reached for it. “Uh-uh! Not until you’ve answered a few questions. Think of me as the practice run.”

“The practice run for what?”

“Well, Hugo, for one. Or Uncle Ron. Possibly Fred or Louis, although James probably won’t get involved.”

In short, all Rose’s male relatives - both her immediate family and her cousins. Scorpius grimaced and began to reach for the paper, then stopped. “Can I at least get some clothes on?”

“Nope.” Al crossed his arms, grinning evilly. “So, Scorpius Malfoy, what are your intentions towards my cousin, Rose Weasley?”

A groan escaped him. “Is there multiple choice?”

“Do you have more than one intention?”

“I like shagging her senseless,” Scorpius said, candidly, and watched Albus wince. “You did ask.”

“How about we skip the ‘fuck’ part and skip to the ‘kill, or marry’ section?”

Scorpius sighed. He’d gotten all these questions last night and had answered them very carefully. At least now, he could be candid without worrying that his words were going to be turned into an easily-misread one-liner. And he really wanted to read that paper and see just how bad it was - and whether Rose would ever talk to him again.

He could just get up and start dressing - it wasn’t as though modesty was a problem with Al. On the other hand, he knew what was due Rose’s family - and his best mate.

“We’re together.”

“Uhuh. And just how long have the two of you been ‘together’?”

“Since your wedding.”

“I see.” Al folded his arms. “And how long before that were you crushing on her?”

“I never...” Scorpius trailed off. Al had a look in his eyes that said he was playing Mr. Nice Guy right now, but that could rapidly change. And Scorpius had seen Albus play Mr. Not-So-Nice Guy a couple of times, and his best mate - _his best mate_! - had scared the living daylights out of him. “A few years.”

“A few years as in two? Three? Or a few years as in, ‘since sixth year when we were in the Triwizard Tournament’ and you secretly hexed Pendergast so Rose would go to the ball with you?”

“You’re being suspiciously specific.”

“Because I’ve just had a bucketload of little incidents fall neatly into place.” Al sounded unrepentant. “And I’m interested in seeing whether you lie or not.”

Scorpius snorted and grabbed for his robe, hauling himself out of bed. Naked or not, he wasn’t going to sit around starkers while Al interrogated him. Especially since it was looking like he already knew all the answers.

“We’re together. We’re both happy with it. Neither of us are looking for a wedding and happily-ever-after. We’re friends and hope to remain friends. And that is the entire deal.” Scorpius belted his robe and stared Albus down. “The rest of it isn’t your business.”

Fourteen years of friendship only went so far; there were still things that Al had no right to know about, and which Scorpius wasn’t going to tell, short of being forced under the influence of Veritaserum.

After a moment during which Scorpius wondered if this was what their friendship was going to come down to - an argument over whether Scorpius was allowed to date Albus’ cousin - Albus grinned. “At least I can trust you won’t blab to the tabloids.”

Enough was enough. Scorpius pointed to the door, hiding his relief beneath sarcastic aggravation. “Get out, Potter. And make me some coffee while you’re at it.”

Al went. Ten minutes later, showered, shaved, and mostly sober, Scorpius sat down at the kitchen table to Al’s fried toast with cheese and bacon and a mug of thick, black coffee - and the copy of The Daily Prophet sitting by his cup.

“If you weren’t already married, Al, I’d totally marry you.”

“I’m in the market for a hot affair, actually. You’ve got a nice ass.”

“Of course I’ve got a nice ass. I’m Scorpius Bloody Malfoy. Mind you, your wife’s kind of scary, Potter.”

“Terrifying. But adorable. When she’s not being terrifying. I wonder how Rose is holding up.”

Scorpius grinned and flipped open the paper. “Why didn’t you ask Rose all these questions?”

“I did. She told me to corner you instead.”

“Of course she did.” Scorpius picked up his mug and took a long drink of coffee before turning his attention to the paper and skimming the article.

Quirke was still trying to drag him in the picture, but it looked like they’d given up on Rose.

It was mostly the usual stuff - their family histories, the conflict between the Malfoys’ support of the Dark Lord and the Weasley’s support of Harry Potter. That they’d been friends at Hogwarts, and that they’d been bridal attendants at Albus and Hilary Potter’s wedding. Nothing more than a rehash of what everyone already knew.

“So,” he commented, not particularly feeling the need to read about his own history with Rose. “How was the Maldives?”

“Gorgeous,” said Al promptly. “Sun and sea like you wouldn’t believe, and nobody around for miles. Even the units are separated by huge expanses of ocean and long boardwalks.”

“Nice and peaceful and undisturbed?”

“Of course!” Albus’ mouth curved. “Would you believe that Hils packed gillyweed?”

Scorpius laughed. “Yeah, I’d believe it. Did she try the walking on water thing?”

“Oh yes.” Al made a face. “Several times.”

“You married her.”

“I did.” And Al looked happy and contented as he tucked into the fried bread. “So, tell me about this dinner thing last night. The part about your contract, I mean,” he added when Scorpius gave him a look. “You were asking for a raise - did you get it?”

“Nearly there. Not quite.” Scorpius shrugged. “I got more than I expected when I set the price. It’ll keep a roof over my head.”

“Nice roof, by the way. Rose did say the view was spectacular. Oh, to be a famous Quidditch player and be able to afford all this.”

“Says the man whose Quidditch career peaked at twenty-two.”

Al had been a Gryffindor Seeker - like his father before him, as Hils had once intoned before bursting into inexplicable giggles. That had caused a little trouble between the Potter brothers, actually, since Albus had been a better Seeker than James, but had ceded the position to his brother until James dropped from the Quidditch team in his OWL year.

After that, Gryffindor had won the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup every year until Albus, Scorpius, Rose, and Hils had graduated.

“I retired at the top of my game,” Al said with a grin. “How many players can say that?”

Oh, Al had gotten as far as his first year of playing professional Quidditch before deciding the pressure wasn’t for him and retiring at the end of his first extremely successful season with the Wimbourne Wasps, much to the panic, distress, and - in some quarters - anger of his fans and fellow players.

The thing was, Al had never wanted the limelight. Other than some angst and trouble-making in their first few years at Hogwarts, being a Potter had always sat more lightly on Albus than being a Malfoy had sat on Scorpius. Not that it was hard. Being a Malfoy after the Second War was a fraught business, and sometimes when Scorpius thought about just how bad it could have been, he figured he had it quite good.

“And Rose really went to this thing?”

“Prophet’s got the pictures.”

“Well, except for the fact that Rose isn’t actually in the pictures,” Al tapped the empty photo. “But I couldn’t imagine her dressed up like those bimbos usually seen hanging off your arm at these things.”

“She didn’t.” Scorpius grinned at the memory. “Turned up in something Muggle. Shirt and trousers, but no sleeves. Looked businesslike.” And very, very sexy. “What?”

Al was staring sidewise at him. “I don’t need to give you the standard warning, right? I mean, we did that to Pendergast back in fifth year.”

Scorpius remembered that. Branthwaite Pendergast, who’d been a year ahead of him and Albus and Rose, and who’d date Rose’s from the middle of their fifth year all the way until the end of sixth. He’d also been a snivelling coward, with more brains than bravery. Scorpius and Al had put the fear of the Awesome Foursome into Pendergast one night and it had been - for want of a better word - fun.

It was oddly unamusing being on the other side of the talk. He wasn’t Pendergast, for starters; and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Rose. Ever.

“I’ll still see you coming from a mile away. And I know all your tricks.”

“True, but will you see Rose coming?”

Scorpius smirked. “Already have.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “Didn’t need to know that!”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked such a stupid question.” He was inexplicably annoyed by the questioning, and knew he was taking it out on his friend, even as Al put the fork down and just looked at him.

“It’s not stupid to be concerned about two of my best friends.” That was said in the tones of Albus Severus Potter at his most reasonable. Possibly before he became deadly. “And I am. But this isn’t the standard warning - it’s the specialised one. You and Rose...that’s volatile stuff. Not because of your families or whatever crap they’re printing in the Prophet these days, but because the two of you are also friends.”

“And you don’t want to get caught in the crossfire if things go bad.”

“Yes. And no.” A peculiar expression crossed Al’s face, and he poked at his toast, looking more irritable than was warranted from a newly married man who’d just come back from an allegedly wonderful honeymoon. “I want you to be careful, Scorps.”

“With Rose’s heart?”

“No,” said Al, undaunted by Scorpius’ mockery. “With your own.”

\--

Scorpius refused to think about Al’s warning.

Mostly because it was ridiculous.

He and Rose had known each other since that first year at Hogwarts. They weren’t in any danger of breaking each others’ hearts - they’d seen each other at the best and worst of times, challenged each other in everything from Arithmancy to Divination, and seen the other through romances, breakups, and screaming fights.

She’d cried on his shoulder all the way back on the Hogwarts Express when Pendergast broke up with her at the end of Sixth Year; he’d picked fights with her when Chiana Oppenheimer told him that her family would never countenance her involvement with a Malfoy and left for the US as soon as she graduated.

This thing that Rose and he had was friendship...that just happened to have sex on the side.

And so Scorpius told first Al, then Fred, then Louis.

“But not Hugo?” Rose asked as she moved around him, her wand moving at points in the air, casting spells around him. Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure whether to be pleased or disappointed.”

“Maybe he’s scared I won’t order him season tickets if he challenges me about shagging his sister?” Scorpius suggested. “Should we be talking about this? While you’re casting these spells?”

Rose glanced up at him, and her lips curled at the corners. “Don’t you trust me, Scorpius?”

“What a terrible thing to ask when I’m the one playing pig for your spell testing. Terrible. I’ll walk out of here right now. Oh, wait, that’s right - I can’t. Because I trusted you enough to stand here while you cast your trap spells around me, and risked maiming or dismemberment, all in the name of Rose Weasley’s job satisfaction.”

She grinned as her wand sketched out another spell-point, glimmering traceries hanging in the air for a moment before they faded. “Oh, you’re far too pretty to maim or dismember, Scorpius.”

When she finished her circle around him, she stepped in close, and tilted her head up so her mouth was within an inch of his. Today the blueish flecks in her eyes were very pronounced - like little chips of slate in the brown of her iris, and Scorpius’ belly curled at the gleaming warmth in them as she looked at him. “And you’ll get satisfaction later.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” And with that, she rose on her toes, kissed him on the mouth, and murmured one more word indistinctly against his mouth as she stepped back.

The lines of the spell she’d cast around him gleamed briefly in the light, like a cage of spiderweb filaments, then faded from sight.

“So what does this spell do? Or can’t I ask that?”

Rose grinned, impishly. “Try to move away.”

Scorpius took a step towards the door of the workshop and stopped. His skin began to tingle. “It feels ticklish.”

“That’s the first stage. Keep going.”

He stared at her. “‘First stage’ doesn’t sound good.”

“Well,” she said candidly, “it’s not meant to be. I promise it won’t harm you permanently.”

“But it’s going to hurt?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Wonderful.” Scorpius took another step and felt the tingle grow across his skin. Now it was an itch. Another two steps and it was a burning sensation.

Rose was watching him with a frown. “Aren’t you feeling anything? You should be feeling itchy. And it should be difficult to move.”

“Went past that a couple of steps ago. I’m pushing through it.” It was like moving through treacle. His body was beginning to burn, his bones aching like the blood in his veins had been replaced by fire.

Scorpius pushed himself on, telling himself it was only temporary, it would be over soon. It was like playing an extended game of Quidditch - telling yourself that it was bad now but it’d be over - sooner or later.

He staggered another step towards the door, his teeth gritted, knowing that if he could just get out of the spell’s radius, he’d be fine... Rose was saying something - at least he thought she was, but he couldn’t hear her over the throb of blood in his ears.

One more step, two steps, three...

His body was going to explode. No, really, it was. His bones were burning, his muscles were in spasms, his world was full of white-hot flaming pain...

“ _Finite Incantatem!_ ” Rose’s voice cut through the pounding of his blood, and Scorpius felt the resistance around him vanish.

Without it, his legs refused to hold him and he collapsed to the floor, his body still shaking and shivering from the spell. It wasn’t active pain anymore, but his body still tingled from the memory of it. A moment later, Rose was down beside him, on her knees, her hands running over his robes.

“You blithering _idiot_ ,” she said through clenched teeth.

The anger was unexpected - hadn’t he just let her cast a spell around him for testing purposes? “What?” He asked, only it came out rather more like ‘Aaah?’

Rose’s mouth was tight and a little white around the edges. “You were supposed to stop when it started hurting!”

“You wanted me to test its limits!” It came out as a mumble rather than the exclamation it should have. Merlin, he felt so tired!

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d keep going! Lie back.” She took out her wand, tapped him on the nose with the tip, before doing the same over his breastbone, his balls, and his toes. “ _Enervate!_ ”

Scorpius felt the lingering remnants of pain dissolve as a pleasant glow diffused through him. He relaxed into it with a sigh of relief.

Rose didn’t look quite so relieved, though. With her cheeks pink and her lips in a tight line, she looked furious with him.

Or maybe with herself, perfectionist that she was.

“Hey,” he said, closing his hand around hers. He had to grope for it twice, he was still that weak. “It was good. A good spell. Very painful.”

She looked at him and began to laugh. It sounded a little hysterical, so he just ran his hand up and down the smooth skin of her forearm, reassuring her that he was okay.

“‘Very painful’ is a _good_ spell?”

“For what you wanted...yeah!”

“You were supposed to stop when it started hurting!”

“I wanted to see how far it would go.”

“Well, you found out.”

“Not completely, since you cancelled the spell before I died.” Scorpius grinned up at her, then flinched when she punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! I’m an injured man.”

“And an idiot.” Rose got up off her haunches and crossed to one of the drawers at the workbench, pulling out a big block of Honeydukes’ Finest Chocolate from which she broke a large piece before putting it back. “Here,” she said, breaking the piece into two and offering him the larger piece. “Have this.”

Scorpius managed to lever himself up onto his elbow and took the chocolate. It had been years since he’d had Honeydukes’ Finest, but it was still as good as he remembered.

“At least now I know where you keep your stash.”

Rose arched her brows at him as she savoured the sweet. “Maybe I’ve got it hexed.”

She would, too. Scorpius eyed her as he finished his chocolate - Rose was a slow eater when it came to sweets. Apparently it had something to do with her grandparents. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said, starting up from the floor.

“Oh, Merlin!” She grabbed his robes and yanked him back down to the floor beside her. “Are you sure you’re not a Gryffindor? You’re certainly reckless enough!”

“You mean you really do have it hexed?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “With Weasleys dropping by every minute of the day, and Hils and Al living in the house? Of course my chocolate drawer is hexed!”

She looked so exasperated that Scorpius had to laugh. Her pout only made him laugh harder - until her eyes narrowed.

He stopped laughing when she lunged for him and her lips closed over his, sliding into his mouth, smooth as cream, sweet as honey, and with the lingering taste of chocolate on her tongue. Scorpius tilted his head back to give her better access to him, and one hand skimmed her hip on its way up under her shirt back.

Rose arched a little as his hand stroked the small of her back, and she settled on his hips as her mouth moved against his, slow and steady and unspeakably sweet.

Friends with sex. Or, as the Muggles called it ‘friends with benefits’.

This was _definitely_ beneficial in Scorpius’ mind.

He undid her shirt front one-handed - he’d had lots of practice at getting her out of her shirts lately - and her fingers were working at the fastenings of his robe when there was a squawking sound and a cough.

“Uh, guys?”

Scorpius looked around, but there was no-one else in the workshop, and the door was still closed.

“Rose? Are you there?” It was Hils’ voice, but it seemed to be coming from up on Rose’s worktable. Abruptly, Scorpius recalled the Floo intercom that allowed conversation between the house and the workshop - just conversation, thankfully, no visuals.

That was something he _really_ didn’t want to be sharing with Al and Hils.

“Uh, yes.” Rose sounded a little breathless as she sat up and adjusted her shirt back onto her shoulders, although there was still nobody in sight. “What’s up, Hils?”

“Al is home, and the food’s nearly ready. Are you and Scorps coming in for dinner?”

“Yes. Yes, we’ll be inside in just a minute.”

There was a pause on the other end, then Al’s voice. “Is that an actual minute minute, or are we talking another fifteen minutes?”

Scorpius snorted, amused. “Please,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t take less than half an hour.”

Rose blushed fiery scarlet as there was a noise like a choked giggle on the other end. And the grin on Scorpius’ face felt like it was going to split his cheeks - at least until Rose pinned him with a ferocious glare. “You can last half an hour?”

“Oh, Merlin! Spare us the gory details,” Al said, while Hils gave up trying to keep her giggles quiet in the background. “Just know that there’s dinner here when you’re ready for it.”

About to retort that it wasn’t _dinner_ he was ready for, Scorpius found a slim finger pressed against his lips.

“Okay,” Rose called with a bright cheerfulness, while she shot Scorpius a look that clearly said, _Shut up!_ “We’ll be in directly.”

He sighed as she began buttoning up her shirt.

“They know what we’re doing out here.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do it!”

Scorpius grabbed her thighs and shifted under her, very gently and sensually, and watched the fading pink in her cheeks flame up again. “Sure, we don’t have to...but wouldn’t it be fun?”

“No,” she said, although her voice wavered a little as she spoke and she didn’t try to get off him. “It wouldn’t... Scorpius!”

He’d flipped open her shirt again and slid his hand inside her bra, easing back the lace so his hands had free access to her breasts. She arched, and Scorpius grinned and sat up, laying a kiss on her collarbone, before nuzzling at her throat.

Above his head, her breath caught.

“So,” he murmured, his own breathing a little hoarse as he kissed her between words, “are we going to dinner...or shall we just skip to dessert?”

“Scorpius?”

“Yes.”

“You talk too much.”

Her solution to that problem was to kiss him senseless. Well, not so senseless that he couldn’t feel her hands stroking him as she pulled back his robes, or appreciate the curve of her hipbones as he eased her trousers off her body.

She straddled him almost as soon as her trousers were off, her hands wrapped firmly around his cock, her thumbs drawing circles on his erection. “Do you know what your problem is, Malfoy?”

“I’ve got this sexy minx with her hands on my wood, but she’s just teasing?” He sucked her lower lip into his mouth and slid a finger into the cleft between her thighs. She was soft and wet and swollen there, and as he trapped her clit between his index finger and thumb, she made a whimpering noise.

“That’s not a problem,” Rose gasped. “Your problem is that you’re too impatient.”

“Yeah?”

“I was going to be good to you tonight when we got back to your apartment.”

“Still can.”

“Very. Good.” Rose licked her lips, her tongue lingering delicately on the tip of her upper lip.

She was killing him. Scorpius groaned as she squeezed him lightly. Fine, then. She wanted to stretch this out? He was going to stretch them out.

“Guess I’ll have to settle for being bad right here...”

And with that, Scorpius cupped a hand behind her head, and rolled them over so she was under him on the floor. Then he spread her knees wide, and sheathed himself in a long, liquid thrust.

Rose arched, her hips rising to meet his. But she wanted it fast and hard - and Scorpius wasn’t inclined to give it to her. He’d said half an hour, and by Merlin’s beard, he was going to make this last if it killed him.

“Hurry up,” she whimpered at him as he shifted within her. “Scorpius!”

“Do you know what your problem is, Weasley?” he murmured, sucking on her earlobe to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Rose panted under him. “Impatience?”

“Exactly. Good things should be savoured.”

“And you’re good?”

“Nope.” Scorpius pushed himself up on his elbows, changing the angle of his cock inside her, and grinned when she arched. “I’m _very_ good.”

Then he started moving in slow strokes, taking his time, savouring the exquisite sensation.

She felt divine under him - and yet that wasn’t the whole of what was getting him off. It was watching her arch when he found a new angle that hit her just a little sweeter, listening to her whimper when he licked at the sweat beading behind her ear, feeling her undulate beneath him as she matched her rhythm to his, like a spell cast in perfect harmony.

Her hands slid across his shoulders, skimmed his flanks, dug into his butt. Her gasps grew more urgent, little cries of pleasure. Albus and Hilary were forgotten. Dinner was irrelevant. What Scorpius wanted - what Rose wanted - right now was this.

Scorpius felt the orgasm shiver through her, and kept driving through the aftershocks as her flesh spasmed around his. Warm triumph wound through his body as Rose came - the pleasure of a lover who was satisfied. His own orgasm was close, just a little more, a little longer...

Rose levered herself up on her elbows and tightened around him. _Clenched_ , actually, like a slick, wet fist around his cock. Scorpius moaned. She watched him with a glittering smile that revelled in his undoing.

“Come on, Scorpius,” she purred and he came, groaning as he spilled himself into her.

He eased, slowed, stilled, his cheek in the curve of her throat. Silent, but for the pounding of blood in his temples, and Rose’s shallow pants.

“I think we’re late for dinner,” he murmured and felt her shake with laughter. He eased himself up on to his elbows again - and shivered as he looked down into her face. Lambent heat and warm amusement, her eyes bright with desire, and the fond curl of her mouth.

“My mum warned me about men like you, Mr. Malfoy.”

He scrambled for coherent thought and came up with arch wit. “What? About guys who are really good lovers?”

She grinned and he kissed her, brief and light, then harder when she tried to squirm out from under him.

Scorpius watched unabashed as she cleaned herself up with a basic cleanliness spell, adjusting his clothing and cleaning up the mess they’d made down on the wooden floor of the workshop. Meanwhile, she pulled on her clothing, fastened buttons, fluffed hair, and generally made herself presentable in the mysterious way that women did.

He grabbed her wrist when they started for the door, though, and dropped a kiss on her shoulder and another on her mouth. He didn’t know why, only that it felt right. And when Rose looked at him like he’d lost his mind, he shrugged with a twinkle. “I could get used to dessert before dinner.”

They tramped up to the house half an hour after Albus had called down to them through the Floo-intercom, and found Al and Hilary listening to the Wizarding Wireless and arguing over the latest reforms in the Ministry of Magic.

“‘ _Directly’_?” Hilary asked, her hands on her hips, one brow cocked. Al coughed as he climbed off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“You be quiet,” was all Rose said, her cheeks still pink.

\--

Summer flew by (or possibly Floo’d by) and Scorpius and Rose continued to see each other - at least once a week, more usually several times a week.

They settled into a routine of sorts - afternoons in her workshop, nights at his place. Rose went along to some of Scorpius’ appearances for Quidditch and endured the photos and questions with a great deal more patience than he expected. Scorpius went along to the Gringotts’ Annual Employee Dinner and put up with the breathless fascination of Rose’s colleagues.

And Scorpius enjoyed the relationship - enjoyed Rose Weasley and everything she brought his life, enjoyed making her laugh, or making her scream, watching her eyes light up when he tossed an idea out and it sparked a thought, taunting her with a perspective that he knew was going to make her bristle like a hedgehog and give him her unvarnished opinion, or simply sitting to the side of the workshop, quiet as she muttered and murmured to herself and made notes with a floating quill and parchment.

He liked that she’d made it clear this wasn’t a great romance. No expectations to break.

And yet...

There were times when he felt like she was keeping him very carefully out of the more intimate sections of her life.

There were lines she’d drawn up, and Scorpius was allowed so far into her life and no farther.

\--

Rose never slept over.

“I like sleeping in my own bed,” she said when he asked why she didn’t just stay the night and go home in the morning. “And you take all the covers.”

“You’re pretty tired.” Scorpius knew she’d been working on one of her projects lately - a piece of Muggle technology that had been spelled so it worked like it did out in the Muggle world. It was a complicated series of spells that Rose was trying to work down to a handful so they could be mass-produced and sold. “You’re going to splinch yourself one of these nights.”

Rose laughed as she pulled on her shirt and began buttoning it. “I haven’t splinched myself since Hogwarts.”

“There’s always a first time.”

She finished dressing herself and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I’ll be fine, mummy,” she told him with a caress of one finger against his jaw.

Then she went.

\--

They didn’t make love at her apartment.

Rose’s eyes widened when Scorpius suggested they go to her place instead one night. “Do you know how many people drop in on Dominique? Randomly? And at all hours of the day? And just how nosy they are? I’ve had to hex my room just to stop people ‘accidentally wandering in’.”

“They just walk into your room?”

“Either Dom knows a lot of people with no concept of boundaries - which doesn’t surprise me at all given her history of boyfriends - or there are a scary number of wizards who have no idea of their right hand from their left! Why do you think I spend all my time at Al and Hils’ house, or at your apartment?”

“I think we were under the impression that you actually _liked_ us.”

“What a silly idea!” Rose smirked. “I just like to work - or play - without interruptions. We’ll go to your place.”

They went to Scorpius’ place.

\--

They stayed firmly away from each others’ family events.

“I don’t want the speculation,” Rose said when a Great Weasley Reunion turned up at the end of the summer and she told Scorpius point-blank that she wasn’t going to invite him along. “And you wouldn’t like the pranks.”

“I’ve been through it before,” Scorpius reminded her. They were sitting in the living room of his apartment, candles burning in the sconces, Firewhiskey glasses on the low table, Rose curled up in his lap. “The summer after Third Year, when Al dragged me along to the Potter picnic in Godric’s Hollow.”

“You weren’t sleeping with a Weasley then, though.” Rose stroked his hair back from his forehead, her fingertips just tracing his scalp. She gave him an arch look. “Unless you were?”

“Well, Hugo tried to seduce me in his third year. I had to tell him he wasn’t my type. Broke his heart.”

Rose blinked, and then burst into laughter.

Scorpius grinned as he wrapped his hand more firmly in her hair and tugged her head back for access to her throat. He was becoming quite addicted to the line of her throat. And the delicate jut of her collarbones. And the curve of her shoulders down to her long, slim arms...

That night, after Rose had gone back home, Scorpius found himself sitting on the couch again, staring out at the glittering lights of Muggle London.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like having his own space, it was just that the Malfoy in him didn’t like being kept out of hers. Of course, he couldn’t just barge into her life, the way Dom’s friends seemed to barge in on Rose’s privacy at her flat. And it wasn’t as though he wanted to, either.

But it niggled at him, an uncomfortable awareness.


End file.
